Because you wish it
by Harmony4life
Summary: It began as just another ordinary night of him watching her from outside her balcony...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:I don't own TO. Nor do I wish to.

a/n:

1) It might even be a sin to ponder fictional tragedies, when I'm knee deep in school, but this couple's tale is too hauntingly unfinished to bear. This one-shot, which I will post in multiple installments, is born out of the relentless itch to give Klaus & Camille a moment of happiness that will not be immediately stolen away by uninspired writers, or bully shippers, or combination of both, so admittedly, it is rushed, but I am compelled to arrive at some semblance of a happy Klamille ending.

2) It's been years since I last wrote, so I apologize for my extremely rusty writing, and perhaps because I put Klamille on a pedestal of depths and complexities, I don't think I can ever truly do them justice. Doesn't stop me trying, though, and I hope someday, this beautiful ship will be fully cleansed of all the unfair hatred, and they will be vindicated.

3) In case it's not apparent enough, this story is Camille-centric. Please feel free to shower her with love that she so deserves in the review sections, or elsewhere ;)

4) The song lyric is in italics and quotation. **Sally's Song** from "The nightmare before Christmas**"** The idea came to mind when this song was played on my Spotify.

5) For those who are Klamille shippers - Please enjoy! I send you all my love. Great consolation to know you are out there, supporting this ship. For those who aren't - Well, may this story tug at your heartstrings, and change your mind.

Without further ado,

_"I sense there's something in the wind_

_That feels like tragedy's at hand_

_And though I'd like to stand by him_

_Can't shake this feeling that I have_

_The worst is just around the bend_

_And does he notice_

_My feelings for him?_

_And will he see?_

_How much he means to me_

_I think it's not to be"_

Mournful lyrics pierced through her consciousness, while she remained perfectly still, her face betraying no emotions. She stared at the computer screen, comprehending each and every psychology term, but unable to piece them together in the paragraph she found herself reading for the third time. "**Denial**" vaguely registered in her scattered mind, "operates on an unconscious level to shield the consciousness from thoughts and feelings too difficult to grapple with". It then plunged into how to uncover and uproot denial and confront reality too painful to bear, and she could almost feel the despair burning, from one meaningless word to the next, at the back her retina. She was dangerously close to giving up, and for someone as stubborn as herself, this took on a color of absolute, and how she resented the ready agreement of a sudden draft from her balcony shocked her to the core.

Imperceptibly, she shifted her dull gaze to the billowing curtain of pure white chiffon, which would contrast nicely with...black leather- inserted a treacherous thought into her head. Two months prior, she had volunteered her aversion against the bright orange satin of the old curtain sets now buried in one of her drawers to the shop owner, laughing satisfyingly and almost derisively at her own flair for self-deception. And if any visitor noticed her change of taste, and commented approvingly, she brushed it off, ignoring the tiny jolts to her stomach, as masterfully as how she was dismissing the current chills creeping up her spine.

Resolutely, she fixed her eyes on her open balcony door, sheer curtain then motionless against the velvety darkness. Nothing out of the ordinary. The crescent is firmly etched aside one lonesome winking star. Softness lent itself to her posture. She loves the moon, especially full moon, with mysterious howling deep in the open forest, where nestles the desire for freedom at the heart of brutal fights for survival. And just like that, psychology article long forgotten, her mind wandered to what she had been trying in vain to suppress, her lower lip caught innocently between her teeth, the last drop of acknowledgement vanishing from green irises, which are darkened by a flash of defeat and haze of unbridled longing.

"In a melancholy mood tonight, are we?" To her right rang an always inexplicably dulcet tone to her ears, even when spoken in various prosodies of extreme rage, if she was willing to admit to herself. "Well, we ought to remedy that."

She tried to focus on the laptop lying haphazardly next to her seat, and how she moved it from the armrest, but her concentration yet again taunted her with acute awareness of him advancing into her living room, wafted with distinct smell of night forest and fresh blood. Taking a deep breath, she purposely injected the frustration she didn't feel in her voice. "It's a tad late for therapy, wouldn't you agree?"

It's a rhetorical question, they both knew, but she felt pressing need to fill the awkward silence, and hear him speak for some inane reason, hoping he would dispel her improper thoughts with serious conversations about enemies plotting his demise, something she was more ready to handle than him ambling to her kitchen cabinet as if it were his own apartment. She looked at him, foolishly wishing for time to slow down. Making no knowledge of being started at, he wordlessly withdrew the unopened bourbon bottle, and 2 cups from the top shelf, his back to her, leaving her uninhibited to study him from where she was sitting cross-legged on the couch, with only the kitchen counter blocking her front row view.

She tilted her head to catch the gleam of yellow light in his curly lock. Her eyes trailed down to his neck, catching a glimpse of his necklace disappearing below his collar, and his strong shoulders covered with black leather. She was so absorbed that even when he turned around, her head maintained the tilted position, and the sparks of curiosity and amazement never faded from her large unblinking eyes. His face was an unreadable expression, which she was determined to decipher, unfazed as he walked slowly toward her, holding out the bourbon, neat. From within the numbing chaos, she felt a twinge of pleasure at how his fingers wrapped gracefully around the bourbon cup. She could not help the faint smile when she looked up to meet his eyes, blue turning into amber of dark liquor, rendering her breathless.

"Thank you!" She rasped.

Nudging the drink out of his grasp easily, she wasted no time to take one big gulp, grateful for the strong acrid taste lingering in her throat shortly before shooting straight to her upper abdomen. She froze when she felt his touch, too abrupt for her to react, on her chin, one breath shy away from left corner of her mouth. His thumb deftly wiped away the bourbon, eyes never leaving her. She swallowed. Lips chaffed, she felt a maddening urge to wet them with her tongue, the tip of which peeking behind her parted mouth. He was kneeling in front of her, she belatedly realized, leaving little room between them. His thumb brushed lightly against her skin. A slight tremble went through her body.

"Klaus," tumbled out of her mouth, all tingly under his intense gaze, barely a whisper.

He showed no sign of hearing her or shifting from his position, and she did not waver from her stare when he, as if in a daze, ran his fingertips slowly along her jawline, down the curve of her neck, ghosting on her left collar bone before dipping into the hollow of her throat, where pulsated her quickening heartbeat, which she knew was thumping clearly against his ears. And to this knowledge, she shivered. She felt his fingers continue their journey down to the neckline, and for the first time during the arduous night she remembered that she was in her pajama, white tank top and black shorts. She glanced down, mortifyingly greeted by the nipples peaking out from beneath the thin cotton.

She practically jumped off the couch, almost knocking him over, and ran into her bedroom, but not before managing to squeak out, "sorry, I wasn't expecting any company."

She dived into her top drawer, and grabbed the first nightgown robe she saw, and not until she wrapped it around her body, tying the belt securely around her waist did she let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"I came to check in on you." He spoke from behind her, the familiar lilt so soothing that she automatically squeezed her eyes shut.

She turned to face him, not missing the hesitance in his voice, and for a brief second, she entertained the thought of Klaus Mikaelson asking her for permission to intrude.

Inwardly she scoffed, and it came out more curtly than she intended. "What makes tonight different?"

He pushed himself away from the door frame of her bedroom, folded arms smoothly untangling and left flailing by his side, eyes widened with surprise. Reluctantly, he admitted. "You knew."

"That you have been lurking since my uncle passed away? Yes." She said evenly. She then sighed, torn between annoyance and sympathy at the remorseful look on his face, "it's been more than a month, Klaus. I am fine…I will be. You don't need to stop by every night, and if you do, at least have the courtesy of showing yourself." She supplied hopefully. "I'd like it if I could see you."

She risked a quick glance at him, and upon catching his fierce and frank stare, she cleared her throat, "so…um…why are you here now?" unsure of what she herself meant by 'here'. _Her apartment? Her bedroom?_ She has felt his presence, but she was then seeing him in the flesh, and again, she wished to slow time.

"What evil is at your doorstep this time?" was her puny attempt at humor to assuage the throbbing in her chest, "other than the usual, I mean," internally wincing at her exaggerated shrug.

He gestured a hand toward her. "Shocking as it may seem to you, Camille, I assure you it's just another ordinary day of managing incompetent factions, and a night of routine killing spree a few blocks from your apartment." His shoulder shrug mirrored hers, and she tried to fight the rise of exasperation. "I was on the way back to the compound, so I thought, why not paying a brief visit to my therapist." He had the nerve to smirk, "mere convenience, might I add."

"Spare me the theatrics, Klaus." She huffed

"Camille," he moved forward, all smugness dropped, "I would have had been content with watching you, but you looked so forlorn earlier, and I," he fell silent, reaching out to cup her face, before continuing softly, "I ached to make sure you are alright."

She leaned into his palm, eyes fluttering closed, a wave of bliss washing over her.

"The song." He murmured, "were you thinking of someone specific?"

Her breath hitched. Her eyes flew open. Her mouth quivered but no words came out. She couldn't look away, imprisoned in his fathomless gaze.

She could feel her chest rising and falling rhythmically, but when she saw the unmistakable anticipation dancing in his eyes, her breathing became erratic, the answer teasing on her lips. He broke eye contact before she could say anything, however. He moved to caress the scar on her forehead, and her heart was still hammering wildly in her chest.

He queried somberly. "Were you thinking of Marcel?" He fixed her a cool stare, not waiting for her to reply. "I could allow him to come visit you if that would put you more at ease," his hand strayed to the wayward golden strands grazing her eyebrow, "with proper curfew, of course."

Flashing her his crooked smile, he looked almost proud of himself for the charity he thought he just gave her.

She stepped back, pushing aside the unbidden guilt in her chest. "I appreciate the gesture, but no need." She hoped the genuine vexation at his insolent attitudes could mask the unease in her voice. "I have been seeing Marcel at his place across the river."

Klaus Mikaelson was rendered speechless. He could only look at her. She felt rather than saw a storm of emotions swirling in his darkened eyes, his lower lip trembling, his shoulders stiff, and for a moment she wondered if he would bare his fangs.

"Marcel did not violate his exile from French Quarter, Klaus," was the first thing she could come up with, feeling an acute fear for Marcel's life, "I came to him."

She instantly regretted it when she saw his hands balling into fists. He looked like he was ready to strangle all creatures in his proximity, yet it never occurred to her she was the one immediately within his reach, and most likely the cause for his ire. She resisted the urge to put her hands on his shoulders.

She waited patiently for his rebuttal, which was a deadly calm. "Camille, so ready to defend the wretched child slave that I," he jabbed a finger to his chest, "the most powerful original hybrid, took under my own wing, and raised as my own son, only to see him become the meddlesome ungrateful fraud he is now. He should consider himself lucky ostracism is the only thing that befell his indebted existence, but feel free to pass along the warm message that I will gladly expand the list of his punishments."

It dawned on her that long-winded speeches might be a way to regain control of his temper. She let out an exasperated sigh, "you know that was not fair. Anger is clouding your judgment, Klaus."

He grabbed her arms roughly, bringing his face so close to hers she could feel his warm breath tickling her skin. He growled. "Do you love him?"

"No." She heard her own steely voice, soft relentless pangs in her left chest. Blinking away tears, she said with unhidden bitterness. "Thanks to your compulsion, I have found a friend in him. He gives me comfort."

She was shocked to see the agony moments before his features slipped back into the mask of intimidation, his lips forming words, his voice icy. "Pray tell, when do you ever plan to tell me about your colluding with Marcel?" leaving her with anger that matched his.

"Can you blame me if I say never? Klaus, you are acting unreasonable, and maybe you are furious because you played a part in all this." Knowing her words hurt, and feeling her anger ebbing away as quickly as it appeared, she softened, "I know he is not in your good books at the moment, but it is simply unjust when you lash out at either of us." She pushed further when his grasp loosened at her elbow. "Please don't hurt Marcel! You consider him your son. You will only hurt yourself in doing so."

"Don't you see, Camille? I will never hurt you. And I will consider mercy on anyone that is important to you."

And in a flash, he's gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/n**: _Here's the second installment. For anyone who does and doesn't care. It might just be a shout out to the void. Or someday, years from now, somewhere, someone might find solace in reading this. I am certain an intricate love like Klaus & Camille will stand the test of time and mental fatigue from the monotony of our everyday life. Cheers!_

_..._

She stayed rooted to the spot, arms hovering midair, letting what had just transpired trickle into her consciousness, and in a flare of recognition, she darted to the balcony, and called his name as loud as she could.

"Klaus!" She sounded more desperate by the minute, and she did not care. "Klaus, I know you are still here. Talk to me!"

_"And will we ever_

_End up together?_

_No I think not_

_It's never to become.."_

The only responses were the night breezes, and the song she had been playing on repeat, utterly apathetic. Cursing under her breath, she snapped the offensive laptop shut, and sprinted out of her apartment and into the night, cold air like a slap on her face. She, lost to the outside world, did not know what possessed her to keep walking blindly, the fervor of wistfulness in his voice before he disappeared being her only tether to sanity. Mustering all the heartbreak she has sustained ever since they first met, she screamed his name at the top of her lungs again.

Came the reply in the form of her voice echoing back at her, all alone in the dark alley. Heedless of warning bells in her head, she pressed forward in the dark, and tried to reason with the hybrid who was nowhere to be seen. "I know you're there. We need to talk right now. Not tomorrow. Not in another two weeks when we can sweep everything under the rug."

Leaning against the cold wall, shrouded by darkness, she paused to catch a breath, looked upon the minuscule silver dots in an otherwise raven sky and whispered, never for a second doubting her instincts. "We both need to stop running the instant a conversation gets tough, Klaus, so I am not leaving."

She mentally counted…_1…2…3_, and his voice cut through the eerie silence, as gruff as she expected. "What makes you think I do not have a say in the matter, Camille, especially when you keep putting yourself in hair-brained and uncalled-for danger repeatedly?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him running a hand through his hair. She heard his aggravated sigh. In an instant, he appeared in front of her.

"You are well aware that the snotty Guerrera's police dogs are prowling all over the French Quarter, and one would think that brief taste of their pitiful harassment 'd instill in you some sense of caution."

He was breathing loudly. She knew she had to interject. "Leave them be, Klaus. You tortured them enough."

He looked at her, murderous intent made guttural. "I should have snapped their necks and permanently crushed their impudent maws for daring talk to you that way."

"And I asked you not to. I thought we went over this." She countered, not particularly pleased with where the conversation headed, but it must be said, again. " Besides, how many times do I have to tell you that I can take care of myself?"

"Yet you seem determined to contradict yourself, and continue to be frivolous about your safety and your well-being." He roared, catching her off-guard, but she refused to budge.

He stepped closer to her, and scuttled backward as if losing balance. His eyes, shining bright in the dark, swept the surrounding wildly. His two hands clutching his head, he paced back and forth, mumbling more to himself. "What would have happened…what would you have done… had I actually left…I cannot even bear the thought."

"I know you didn't." She kept her voice steady.

"That's not the POINT." He stopped pacing instantly, slipping into her personal space again.

"The point is you cannot keep watching me forever, Klaus. You have to trust me to take care of myself." She was certain that a lecture about safety was not what she came out here for, and all too eager to end this digression.

All at once, his right hand found its way to her cheek. He stared deeply into her eyes, pained resignation evident in his face. It came out as a tremulous whisper, and she wouldn't have heard it, had he not been so close. "Camille O'Connell, you don't know what you are doing to me."

"Then tell me." She challenged, but it sounded more like a soft plea. Her right hand landed absently on his waist, and upon feeling the leather, she tugged him forward. Her left hand slid up his chest to where his heart resided. Her eyes drifted to his lips, and back to his eyes, where laid bare a battle of fear and yearning, and a flicker of hope. She pressed closer to him, their chests flush. He was leaning down, his other hand curling around the nape of her neck. Her eyes flew shut, every crease of his lower lip still vivid, setting hers afire.

Suddenly a loud bang shot through the air, followed by dogs barking, and someone's car alarm going off in the distance. Hardly had she let out a gasp when he whisked them into a hidden corner, holding her tight to him. She burrowed her face into his neck, while he strained his ears to listen. Before long, the commotion died down, and dead quiet engulfed them again, but he did not slacken his grip, her body lithe in his embrace. Surely, he must be thinking what she was thinking, that they could pick up where they were so rudely interrupted. Warmth spread from her bosom when she felt his lips right next to her ear, his stubble titillating her skin.

"You want to talk?" He inhaled deeply. "Fine, but not here."

She nodded her assent. He hooked his arm under her knees, and lifted her up effortlessly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, rested her head on his shoulder, and when her lips inadvertently stretched into a smile, she felt him stiffen before asking huskily. "Ready?"

Another nod, and she felt as if she were being hurled into the ground from the highest roller coaster. It was terrifying, but she nuzzled further into his warm chest, focusing on his strong heartbeat, and before she knew it, they were back to the balcony of her apartment. She dimly hoped the trip would last longer, and while gazing up dreamily at him, she thought roller coaster rides to which she was strongly averse would be drastically more pleasant in Klaus' arms, and she beamed at the prospect of putting her mundane theory to the test. His eyebrows raised, he looked amused. She flashed him a demure smile to say 'secret's all mine' prompting a soft chuckle from him.

"Okay, let's get you settled in."

He carried her inside, and gently laid her on the couch, the exact same spot she had been sitting before he showed up.

_Back to square one_. _How did they get here, again? _

She had wanted to talk.

_Talk_-one word reverberating in her head, powerful enough to diffuse the fog of lust.

Or so she thought. Her ruminating mind was back, but the raw thirst still hung thick in the air, as she watched him down his hitherto untouched bourbon, admiring his profile like a work of art. Not a moment too soon, he turned, catching her staring at him, and she was once again trapped in a limbo, incapable of looking away, but not knowing how to move forward, with a brick wall between them, the wall he insisted on building even higher by averting his gaze so sharply that he might as well have given a thousand needlesticks into her chest.

He strolled into the living area but kept a careful distance from the couch. She set her sightline upon the bottle of bourbon on the kitchen counter, where it was unexciting and uncomplicated.

The silence must have dragged too long for his liking, so he tried to draw her attention by chiding softly. "Have you realized that you ran out into the street, in the middle of the night, in naught but mere intimate apparel, essentially inviting all degenerate nitwits to pounce on you?"

She was made aware of the distinct absence of bra, and fleshy mounds of her breast, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her flustered.

"Same song and dance, Klaus." She shrugged half-heartedly, hypnotized to the amber liquid of bourbon. "Was busy catching up to you, no time to get changed."

"With all due respect, Camille, I was catching up to you, all the while attempting to comprehend what it is that you want to talk so urgently that threw you in such a bewildering frenzied state," he sounded more and more frustrated, "putting your life yet in jeopardy!"

Exasperation wouldn't even begin to describe what she was experiencing. She buried her face in her hands, feeling light-headed with the onslaught of mute emotions.

"Camille?"

She did not miss the concern in his voice, and there was a time she felt butterflies whenever she heard that peculiar passionate concern reserved for her, but currently, she just felt desolate. Was concern the only thing he allowed himself to feel when it came to her? And it did not help when he was so vexingly vocal about it. She held out an arm to stop him from coming closer, and decided to stand up to his eye-level. She knew not how to begin, so she was just winging it, and ending their tiresome pattern, once and for all.

"Camille, you should not stand." There went the demanding concern again. "You should wait before the vamp-speed effect wears off."

Her body betrayed her when the room started to spin a little, and instantly, he was next to her, grabbing her arm, stabilizing her, but she dismissed him as quickly. "I'm fine."

He looked skeptical, but said nothing. She pulled away, folding her arms across her chest.

Exposed to his heated gaze, his readiness to catch her again, she blurted out, mostly to stave off the awkwardness that was about to burst. "You could have come out of your hiding place, you know, saving me all the trouble."

"I thought you would have let it go," he had the decency to appear guilty, his face downcast, "and had the foresight to come back to the comfort and safety of your apartment, when I made rather clear that the conversation left nothing to discuss."

"Perhaps to you," she fought the petulance when she affirmed, "but not to me."

"Camille." He uttered his telltale drawl, with a touch of weariness, but the vehemence was promptly back in his subsequent declaration when he looked up to command eye contact. "Forgive me if I wish for no more of you talking about your time with my adopted son. I already presumed to end it on what I hoped was a mutually satisfying note by giving you my word that I will consider leniency with your beloved Marcel, out of my…duty to you, client to therapist."

"Technically, you didn't. You were rather nonspecific." She quibbled, knowing it's entirely unnecessary, yet she needed a way of coaxing him to talk. "Also Klaus, why do you want to extend forgiveness to those who are important to me?"

"I will not harm a hair on Marcel's head if he does right by you. There you have it." He said with conviction, still looking deeply into her eyes, though it did not escape her notice that he conveniently ignored her question. "And my offer still stands. I will make an exception and allow Marcel to visit your apartment. No more venturing across the river for you, between the Guerrera plotting rebellion, and Marcel's pretentious army of lackeys, it's too risky."

Not expecting it to be easy, but hoping against hope it would not be this tricky either, she furrowed her brows, musing on how to change the trajectory of the talk. He probably took her frown as some sense of unease about his offer, because Klaus Mikaelson suddenly looked uncomfortable and uncharacteristically unsure of himself, a rare sight to behold.

"And you don't have to worry." Uncertainties tinged his words. "I intend…uh…I'll try not to…keep watch when you spend time with Marcel here. I will give you the privacy, Camille." He then met her eyes, "but mark my words, should anything happen to you, the traitorous son would have to answer to my unending wrath, and I wouldn't be able to afford any more contemptible pity."

"Does me seeing Marcel bother you?" She kept it simple, before he further overwhelmed them both with more comical misassumptions.

He blinked, not foreseeing her bluntness, but still managed to be smoothly emphatic. "My feelings toward the matter are not relevant."

"But I do care about your feelings." She said fervently, the adrenaline pumping in her veins."Tell me, how do you feel about the idea of me and Marcel? "

He fell quiet, his eyes fastened to the floor. To an outsider, he might make a perfect statue of pensive repose, but she was not fooled. She could see his shoulders shaking ever so slightly, his unyielding stance exuding the heat so intense that her pulse quickened.

"Klaus?" She pleaded weakly.

He snapped his head up to look at her, his face contorted in a mix of rage and grief. "I loathe it. The thought of you intimate with him or any suitor made my blood boil."

He snarled, perhaps hoping to scare her away, but she at that point had been too accustomed to his tantrum to even flinch, her expression stoic. Her facade soon cracked, though, once they inopportunely happened to steal glances at each other's lips at the same time. The familiar pull of his lips, as crimson as her cheeks, as strong as gravity, left her powerless, and as if having a mind of their own, her feet pulled her one step forward, her arms coming undone. She was on the cusp of throwing herself to him with abandon when her head was reeled with a sharp intake of breath, followed by a thunderous punch to the wall.

"Please, Camille!" He groaned, his voice taut, shaking with fury. "All I can think of is a million ways to drive his fiendish little face into this bloody wall, to twist every bone, to maul every organ in his pathetic bestial body."

"If it so upsets you," she wondered out loud, "why do you still allow it?"

"I think I'm done for the night." He raked a hand through his hair, visibly perturbed. "I am exercising an inordinate amount of restraint here, and in no condition to quench your thirst for psychoanalyzing the original bastard."

He made to leave. She shot out her right hand, gripping his arm to stop him. "Don't you dare walk away from me again!" She spoke firmly, willing him to look at her, to understand that she would not take no for an answer. "Answer me, if it infuriates you so much, why do you let me be with Marcel?"

She noted that he winced briefly at the mention of Marcel. He put one hand onto hers, paler from the sheer force she was clutching his forearm, and smiled wryly. "Always so tenacious, Camille."

She instinctively tightened her grip, and they stayed in that position, him looking sideways at her, her staring up at him, unwavering. After what it seemed like an eternity, he gently removed her hand from his arm. Threading their fingers together, he turned to face her fully, and she almost fainted with relief.

"Because you wish it." He cupped her face, his thumb ghosting the skin of the apple of her left cheek, hip lower lip trembling before the words came tumbling out, increasingly steady and feverish as he spoke. "Because I cannot stand to see the light die in your eyes, and the smile wilt in your lips, when you are bereft of the mutinous callow vampire, who doesn't deserve you, but you deem capable of granting you pleasure and comfort."

With long fingers still molded along the contour of her face, his thumb trailed down to her mouth, gliding across her lower lip like how a flamingo skimmed over water, and ended up quivering above her Cupid's bow, which drew in a soft pout effectively pressing into the warmth of his thumb. Feeling him freeze under her lips, she was brought to a standstill, riveted to the panic swirling in his eyes, that was mirrored in her emerald orbs the moment she saw resolve drape over his countenance. His thumb jerked away, all fingers retracting so fast that a vision of the Sun touching a vampire without daylight ring crossed her mind. He untangled their clasped hands as if he were holding fire, leaving her face burning, her lips cold, her throat dry.

He pulled out of her personal space, and even though every inch of her aching body screamed for her to crash into him, she stood, immobilized, watching him gape at his right thumb as some close sibling who had just betrayed him, his shoulders slumped carrying the entire weights of the supernatural world.

For the first time that night since she had rushed into the cold night calling his name, she felt an inkling of regret, her heart lurching painfully upon seeing him in this much of distress because of her. It hit her. No matter how deep, her desires paled in comparison with his wants and needs, and she would do anything, even if it means having to swallow all this heartache on her own, to ease off his troubles.

"I am sorry, Klaus…" she started, but faltered, unable to finish the sentence…_for pushing you…hurting you with my selfish needs._

He looked at her, whether in awe or fear she could not tell. "Why?"

She stared out at the balcony door, seeking comfort and courage in the beautiful crescent and twinkling stars. "I did not plan any of this. I was not looking for it. It just sort of happened. It's like it..." she paused, searching for the right word, "…found me." And once it struck her, like a broken dam she couldn't stop, the call of being earnest as sweet as the breeze that lingered in the tendrils of her consciousness.

She sighed contentedly, and turned back to look at him with all sincerity and tenderness she was feeling. "I tried to fight it, Klaus. God knows I tried, to no avail. Each day it just got harder and harder, to the point of _nigh_ impossible. It's like fighting against some Divine will, something that is supposed to happen, something that is meant to be…" Her eyes welled up in tears, she found renewed perseverance gazing lovingly into his eyes. "But for you, I'll continue to fight. I don't ever want to trouble or hurt you in any way."

She was in hurt so deep that existential crisis started to loom over her, and she would talk in riddles. It's an old habit that's irksome but not destructive enough to shake. Plus, she knew him well enough to know that he would understand, and he did. _Almost_.

"You told me you don't love him." She caught the glimpse of understanding beneath the sheen of unshed tears in his magnetic eyes. His sotto voice was devoid of accusation. "Yet, you are saying Marcellus is your Destiny."

"Oh my God!" She choked back a sob, her hand clutching her throat, but tears were fast falling. She looked up her ceiling, seeking some answer in The Deity's name

"Camille. My kindest and bravest Camille." She heard him say her name softly, desperately, before she was pulled into his embrace. Bliss, unadulterated bliss settled in her, she molded her body against his, her arms wrapping around his neck, her tears staining his T-shirt, and she recklessly placed a kiss on the damp spot, anxious to taste his skin. If he felt it, he didn't stiffen or freeze or let go this time. He kept one steady arm around her waist, his right hand stroking her hair soothingly.

He pressed his lips to her temple, still stroking her hair, lulling her to some magical dreamy land, then he spoke, his voice seemingly faraway when she was so intoxicated with his scents and his warmth. "Go be with Marcel. You cannot sacrifice your happiness for my sake. I will not allow it."

"You've got it all wrong," bubbled up her throat and catapulted into space when she lifted her head to look him in alarm.

"My dearest Camille, fear not for me." He shifted to lay both hands on her shoulders. "I am Klaus Mikaleson, the cruelest and scariest. I'll survive this minor inconvenience of a broken..." He trailed off to give her a lop-sided grin that did not reach his eyes, and went on "...of temporary madness."

She made to protest but he squeezed her shoulders, and professed, his voice laced with sadness but the mightiness it carried was unmistakable. "If I am not the one who bestows on you the utmost ecstasy of being wholly cherished, and the security of a long-lasting joyous future, then so be it. If I can only watch from afar someone else making you the happiest woman in this topsy-turvy world, then so be it. Camille, I promise you, I will not intervene, on one condition," He cupped her face, his thumb reaching up to catch a stray tear from beneath her lash, "that you will let me safeguard your survival."

"Klaus..." She was robbed of all breaths.

"I don't trust any other unworthy scoundrel to protect you adequately." Pinning her under his heated gaze, he shook his head lightly, telling her that he had already made decisions for both of them. The room temperate dropped when he enunciated, his mouth curled in a lethal sneer. "And if I find him already in a heap of meat and bones, I don't much care for missing the opportunity to kill him myself."

She wanted to let it go, to pick a better battle, yet she heard her reprimand before she could stop. "Why do you even bother asking for my permission then?"

"Because it's important to me." He responded without missing a beat, the venom in his voice gone. "Because it's the only thing that grounds me when I let you go. Because I am asking this favor of you as a friend." Stepping closer to rest his forehead against her, he urged. "Camille, please!"

"Okay." She breathed, not trusting herself to say more, acutely aware of the oxygen they shared.

She heard him draw a shaky breath. The mouth just inches from hers artfully formed the words. "Thank you!"

He withdrew, and she, not ready to handle the distance just yet, reached up to wrap her hands lightly around his neck. "First things first, the badmouthing has to stop." She ordered, half-joking, but turned serious when she locked eyes with his. "I will be the judge of whether the man I choose is worthy or not, you hear me, Klaus?"

Pain flitted though his expression, before he acquiesced tersely. "All right, no unwarranted badmouthing."

She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and he silently stood his grounds, showing no repentance.

"Fine, I guess that's progress." She shrugged teasingly, but her lips inadvertently tugged into a smile that brightened in unison with his mocked grimace, which was now morphed into wide grin, suffusing her with warmth and an added twist in her chest. A flurry of fondness she was beginning to believe she never wanted to do without. Not that she had a choice. It was made for her, and she had told him that much.

The harmless playful moment receded, leaving them yet again singed with sparks so flammable that if one just as much blinked, one would set them both on fire. She fought the urge to glance down his lips, which has proved time and again a futile endeavor. "Must have been one heck of a therapy I gave you to garner this extraordinary improvement, Klaus Mikaelson." She tried to quip, but only managed to sound wistful.

"Surely you must know it's much more than just therapy."

He clutched both sides of her waist so fast that she gasped out of surprise, his eyes a turbulent blue pouring into hers with incredulity and hurt that started to fray at the edges, revealing what could be read as unabashed admiration, making her cheeks flushed.

"For an immortal hybrid with thousands years of experience under his belt who boasted expertise in courtship, you can be so daft, Klaus." She said affectionately, enlivened with his touch.

If her comment astonished him, he did not let it slip. There was a glint of insight in the way he was looking at her, however, signaling for her to elaborate.

Instead, she let one hand drift slowly and deliberately to his left chest, her palm flush against his pectoral muscle, the vulnerability in her sea green eyes belying the nonchalance in her tone when she asked. "You promise me you will not leave me bereft of true love and happiness?"

His gaze flickered down to where her hand rested firm on his chest, then back up to her, giving her the reassurance before he voiced it, moving his hand nimbly to enclose hers, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I make it one mission of my immortal life, Camille."

And she believed him. With all her heart, with every piece, fragmented and whole alike, of her mortal being. There was no more reason for stalling, so she took a leap of faith, her heart threatening to burst out of her chest, not from nervousness, but from joy, joy that painted each word she uttered.

"Then you will not deny me the audacity of falling in love with you, and being loved in return?"

It was an affirmation, not a question, and he knew it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/n: **

Dearest readers,

Before I present you the next installment, I have something to say, and this might not be the most appropriate avenue for spreading this message, but I think we have gone way past that. There is worldwide panic, and I hope you take precautions to protect yourself and your loved ones, and those around you. Please take very good care, and know that you don't have to face it alone, since it's a global effort to weather this storm.

With social distancing and quarantines, I figure we all have more time for in-home entertainment. More time to tune in our favorite movie channel, time to reach for a good book we planned to read ages ago. More time to indulge in fanfiction to see our beloved couples get together and enjoy happiness in the world of imagination.

Klamille is something else, though. For a supposedly monstrous homicidal character like Klaus to be deeply in love, and to tragically fall in love with such a character as a human of great virtues like Camille, there must be pains, untold pains that nothing can ease. Love is the greatest of agonies. I pondered a lot, and indeed, I gave them a sweet union, but there is something intoxicatingly beautiful about the reality we live in, where dreams stay forever a concoction of cinematic illusions and heartaches.

Despite cynicism, true love, I believe, is the purest of all. And Klaus I let run wild with his penchant for theatrics ^^

So here's to our beautiful Klamille!

Much love, and be safe,

❤️

* * *

**_From previous chapter_**

...

"Then you will not deny me the audacity of falling in love with you, and being loved in return?"

It was an affirmation, not a question, and he knew it.

* * *

He blinked, totally dumbstruck. One bashful smile gracing her supple lips, her soft cheeks featuring a perfect hue of young rosebuds, she took the opportunity to march on boldly.

"I can't take my mind off of you, Klaus."

The revelation floated idly in the air, flirting with the cramped space of her apartment before filling the tiny impenetrable chasm between them, and settling, with no subtlety, inside her, consuming her.

Another blink. A trail of glistening tears. She was so close she could see her reflection in the bright gleam of his eyes. She moved her hands to cradle his face, and he showed no resistance. In a slow and deliberate fashion, silently sending him the message, she rose on her feet to bring her mouth against his. She paused a millisecond before finally closing the gap. Wet. Salty. Soft. The loveliest combination of the fullest lips she has ever tasted. She was swathe in some delight she did not know existed, the delight that was melted deliciously with this exquisite warmth of his body pressed against her. He stayed petrified the entire time, and even after she pulled back, he did not move, only his eyelashes trembling ever so slightly against his cheeks.

She was left at liberty to wind her arms around his waist. She sagged against his body unannounced, and his hands automatically came up to clasp together on the small of her back, clutching her to him. His wide open eyes scanned her face before dropping down to her mouth. He gulped loudly.

In a hurried effort to calm their nerves, she started talking.

"You asked me if I were thinking of someone when listening to that stupid morose song, but you never let me answer. I wasn't thinking about Marcel- and I have done a lot of thinking, and I am sick of running away from the truth. The truth is..." She allowed a small delay before resuming with dead certainty. "…I'm in love with you."

"Camille…" He called her name with the tone of desperate anguish of lovers that had to be oceans apart, and not right here in each other's arms.

She took a deep breath to regain her bearings, determined to soften the agonizing disbelief written all over his face.

"I didn't think it was good for either of us, so I fought it, fought it hard. I told myself it's mere curiosity and academic pursuit for me, and therapy for you, but we both know better. You feel it too, Klaus." She said fervently. "You want it too."

"I…I can't…" He was transfixed to her mouth, his voice rich with pain.

Still, he pulled her even closer to meet the curve of his throat. She had to tilt her head upward to peer into the longing that was swirling in his eyes.

"Everyone, including your family, your adoptive son, and you yourself, keep painting you as this cruel monster, and I have witnessed from inside the darkest corners of your mind the awful things you have done in the name of fear of abandonment and protection for what you want to own and keep, but I cannot overlook the good I see in you, the capacity to love so fiercely, the simple desire to be kind, forgiving, and loving. Klaus, I see the tender-hearted young artist you were before ill fates were forced upon you. I see the strong reliable man you want to become. I see the broken and damaged original hybrid who commits many sins, and wants to be redeemed and healed not for himself but for those he cares about."

She paused again to catch the teardrop beneath his eyelid with her lips, before words clashed into her awareness, and projected themselves in a heated whisper against his soft skin. "I love each and every part of you, Klaus."

She was looking at him with candid compassion and endearment, knowing with every fiber of her being that he feels the same way, so she waited calmly for him to speak, warmth gradually overpowering the fear in his voice.

"Camille, I thought I knew love. I had engaged in numerous romantic trysts over centuries of my wretched existence, and I had enjoyed the best of seismic carnal pleasures, but nothing compares to a fleeting trembling touch of your hand. I had pined after many beautiful ladies, but nothing compares to the stake in my heart when I have to force myself to walk away from you every single time, when all I want is nothing more than to gather you in my arms, to hold you, and never let go."

One after another, his tears kept falling, and she felt her eyes burning too, but she refused to cry, wanting to soak in the honesty shining so beautiful in his bloodshot eyes.

"I had been green with envy when I wanted to possess the woman who belonged to someone else, but nothing compares to the burning rage that swallowed me whole when I had to watch Marcel comfort you the day your uncle died. Nothing compares to the fears that throttled my throat when I realized I wanted to be him, that I wished it had been my name you called in the dark. Camille, I had wanted to console the woman I fancied in sad moments, but nothing compares to this deep and twisting pain having to see you in any sorrow. Nothing compares to this sense of grief having to see you cry. It's worse than Papa Tunde's blade buried deep in my chest."

After the long speech that left her breathless and speechless, his forehead collided with hers. They both stayed still, before he murmured. "I do not know what it is that I am feeling for you, Camille, but I know '_love_' does not do it justice."

"I do. I know you feel it so strong that it terrifies you, but it is time to stop running, Klaus." She responded breathily. "I know your hurts and your wounds, and I yearn so badly to soothe them away. You said you wanted to protect me, and secure me happiness. Could you please let me do the same to you?"

"Camille, my beautiful Camille, I have been selfish, dreaming of this day, of hearing you profess your love for me, and you have just put me on cloud nine, but loving me will ruin you." He spluttered, as if it was physically painful for him. "You are precious, too precious for me."

"That is for me to decide, don't you think?" She straightened up, summoning the confidence to smack some sense into his stubborn head. "You need to stop making noble decisions for me, and you need to accept that sometimes there are things you cannot control."

Troubled by her stern demand, his lips drawing into a thin line, likely to stop the urge to argue with her, he made to untangle himself, yet her arms tightened around his waist. "Klaus, look at me."

And look at her he did- he could never deny her anything, she knew that by now- though the fears in his eyes made her knees buckle. Yet, she held her ground, knowing she has to be the strong one for both of them.

"Someone rather wise once told me, when I was on the brink of losing my sanity with the obsessive need to undo the past and save my uncle, that it is time not to give up, but to let go." She sent him a tearful smile when she noted the memory dawning on him, and the hopes finding their way back to his stormy blue eyes. "It is time for you to let go of your need to control my Destiny. I will not be able to fathom the tremendous losses you experienced, but I have had my fair share. I lost both twin sister and uncle to a witch's hex, and my family has long been deeply involved in the human faction. I am in too deep, Klaus. There is no avoiding it."

She let go of him then, and he seized her hand, stopping her from getting away, the objection delineated on his mouth, but she raised her free hand to stop him.

"I know you wouldn't allow it, and that you wish to keep me alive, safe, and happy. Then you must accept that it's your touch that I crave, it's in your presence that I find safety, it's in your embrace that know bliss, and it's in caring for you that I discover happiness. I know it's not a typical happily ever after, but I'd rather spend my numbered days loving you, than another fifty years of forever wondering what could have had been."

"Klaus, I am asking you to give us," she placed a tender kiss on their joined hand, "a chance to be happy."

She nailed him down with the wicked glee flashing in her eyes. "Plus, you made me a promise that I know you fully intend to keep."

"I did, didn't I?" It took a second for her announcement to sink in, and once it did, astonishment gripped him again. "Well, aren't you cunning?" His features relaxed, replaced with mirth and pride, he said conspiratorially. "When your wits meet with evil machinations, it's downright scary, Camille."

Before she knew it, his arms snaked around her waist, holding her in place. He was leaning down closely, menacingly, his voice a grave tone of disapproval. "How hypocritical of you to accuse me of controlling things, and when you single-handedly decided our future, and had me agree to it unknowingly, and so readily like an obedient little puppy."

"It takes two to tango," she winked at him, letting her tongue curl effortlessly in her parting mouth, throwing the word challengingly at him, "love."

Joy sparkling in his eyes, his whole face lit up, and he let out a lilting carefree laugh, and she soon joined him. Somehow, during the laugh they shared, his hand found itself comfortable on her cheek, and hers on his waist. They exchanged a quiet smile, and neither had intention to move away from their rather compromising position.

"I suppose you leave me no choice, Camille," He mocked solemnity, unable to hide the cheer in his fruity voice, "though, I assure you, it pains me very much to do so."

She heard her heartbeats, rapid yet steady, in her chest. The merriment lingered in her eyes as she fluttered them close. The next second, she was wrenched into oblivion when she felt his mouth capture her lower lip, savoring every inch leisurely. Securing her pliant body with his arms, folding her to him, he deepened the kiss, sucking gently still on her lower lip, and she graciously obliged, until his tongue darted out to trace her whole mouth with its warm wetness. She lost all erstwhile patience, her senses going into overdrive. Ignoring the protest rumbling from his throat, in which she felt maddening urge to bury her face and get lost, she broke the kiss hastily before all her resolves went out of the window. She barely had had time to tug off his offensive leather jacket with his clumsy help when she was shoved unceremoniously back into his arms, his mouth plastered to hers, this time, with no more gentility. He was kissing her urgently, greedily, and she was only too pleased to respond in kind. She stood on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck, one hand stealing down, from the opening of his shirt collar, to the bare skin of his upper back, and with the release of a deep growl of frustration that reflected the pooling heat in her lower belly, he fingered with the knot of her robe. In one nimble movement, he untied the belt, smoothing the flimsy piece of clothing off her shoulders, slipping his hand under the hem of her camisole, never once abating the torrid tongue dances in their connected mouth.

He began to trail kisses down her chin, along her jawline, allowing her a second to gasp for breaths, and for her swollen lips to meet the divinely warm spot behind his earlobe, opening up space for him to nuzzle his head in the groove of her neck, inhale deeply before licking her pulsating artery, where he dallied a moment before showering sweet lingering kisses on her bare shoulder.

"You are magnificent." He sounded smoky over the roaring beats of her heart.

His lips found hers again, brushing lightly back and forth. His hands ran up and down her arms, one playing with the spaghetti strap of her tank top, the other traveling in a languid manner up to the beginning of the mound of her breast. She went boneless when his fingers snuck up to tease her nipple that was rendered instantaneously perky with his feather-light touch. She moaned into his mouth, and as if on cue, he hoisted her up into his arms, fastening her legs around his waist. She dipped her head to devour his salacious mouth, her nails digging into his curly lock, vaguely aware of how wonderfully in sync they were.

Indeed, there was synchronicity in how they both decided to tumble into the couch, with her in his lap, with their mouths continuing hard at work, generating a massive source of pleasure that tremored through her body, or in how they both decided to break the kiss momentarily to feast eyes on each other's face like how they had done countless times in the past, except it was the first time she saw his immaculate cheekbones flushed pink not with rage but with arousal. It was the first time that his eyes raked over her body with a floodgate of raw hunger, his fingers traversing tenderly along her shin and up her bare thigh, disappearing under her shorts, stopping just below the outline of her pantie. She squirmed when she felt his fingertips in contact with the dampness, sheer excitement lodged in her vocal cords in some unintelligible sound between a whine and a sigh. His eyes never leaving hers, he drew lazy circles around her center, driving her out of her mind. He added pressure through the fabric. Euphoria shooting through her body, she arched her back, head bending backward, golden hair cascading down the armrest. She lost control of all faculties, including the grasp she had around his neck to keep her from falling to the ground, but he glued her to him with one hand on her hip, his arm around her shoulder, and his mouth in the dimple where her clavicles intersect just above her sternum. He was soon kissing her lips again, distracting her temporarily from the lustful desire burning in her lower body, which was steadfastly spreading upward to her breast, her throat, to her mouth, where she could channel parts of it into their ferocious unending lip-locking.

He kissed and kissed some more, disengaging her lips only when they slackened with the need for air, taking the opportunity to reengage her cheek, her neck, her cleavage, his mouth with amazing sinew, while hers is free to voice her thought, still too breathlessly for a witty remark. "Wow. Talking about a binge after a fast."

He made no sign of hearing her, his lips still vigorous in the hollow between her breast, inching toward the putty flesh.

"You know the solution to that?" Her joke came in small gasps, her hands, having a mind of their own, fiddling with the buckle of his belt. "Timely self-indulgence."

Though heady with his relentless kisses, she was able to remove his belt, and threw it carelessly over her shoulder, creating a loud clink when the metal buckle encountered the glass tabletop, but neither noticed. Consumed with soft kissing sounds he was making, she felt her own need to connect her lips to any part of him, but she settled for pressing her palm fervidly against his bare skin, anxiously exploring the expanse of his lower back, her fingers struggling their way inside his jeans to find the waistline of his briefs. She lost it when he took her cotton-covered nipple fully in his mouth, his thumb circling the other one.

"Damn it, Klaus." She let out a cry, made gravelly with pleasure. "You're killing me."

That caused him to stop his mouth expedition. Still, it took several beats for him to look up, resting his wanton gaze on her. "Don't you act all innocent. As if you were not pressing my buttons."

His eyes dazed with lust, he was about to swoop down for a new kiss, when her hands clamped on his shoulders, stalling him. The pout on his pink lips was irresistible, so she gave them a quick peck before pulling the camisole over her head, throwing it aside, her hanging breasts on full display, set on fire by his treacherous stare. He pulled her head closer to his chest, but stopped midway, gaping open-mouthed, his hand a death grip on her hip.

He whispered in awe. "You're too beautiful."

"Best get on with it then." She kept her eyes steady on his curly lock, her right hand coaxingly extricating his fingers from where they started to shake, and guiding them to cover her left breast. She fell weak in the knees at the pleasure of his warm touch, finding it increasingly hard to stay lucid when he bound her with his luminous eyes, where blazing an explosion of immeasurable affections and yearning, with a dash of fear and pain, held together by a fragile thread of hope. Her heart swelled with love, which unfurled the last shred of clarity in her lust-addled mind. She extended her free hand and let it meet his stubble, stroking it lightly. "Klaus, you will not ruin me. I want this." Saying it out loud made it even truer in her heart. "I want you."

Her first reflex was to kiss him, reminding him how right it felt, yet she stayed put, knowing he needed time, trying her best not to show disappointment when he withdrew his hand from her breast, her hand falling precariously onto his lap, where his excitement came alive. He gasped, and she swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She had felt it before when they all too happily entwined their bodies, and it felt perfectly natural, but for some reason, the awkwardness was restored, She averted her eyes, wringing her hands nervously, a hornet's nest in her stomach. She felt feverish, her face growing uncomfortably warm, only escalating when she felt him wrap his button-up T shirt around her shoulder, let it hanging open, covering her naked top, with only her cleavage revealed. He gathered the strands that got tucked underneath his collar, and liberated them into open air, leaving beads of sweat on the nape of her neck, and her upper back in friction against the material of his shirt.

"We need to talk." He lifted her chin tenderly so that she had a full view of the glory of his bare chest, and the ruefulness in his expression. "Forgive me for being presumptuous, but I can barely get my head together with your bust exposed like that."

"And so you subject me to your exposed torso." She snapped, sounding meek with her own fight against the impulse to latch her then parched mouth on his sternum, breathing in his scents that were enveloping her. She couldn't help stealing glances down his toned stomach, uncertain whether her sarcasm was authentic. "What a brilliant idea."

"I do not see why you complain, Camille, for it seems pretty transparent to me," he was wearing that lopsided smile that caught her heart skittering in her chest, "that you like what you see."

"Oh please," she refuted lamely. "It's nothing that I haven't seen."

"Did you like it back then?" His eyes sparkled knowingly

"You expect me to tell you, and stroke that mountain-high ego of yours?" She pressed her hand on his chest, keeping him at arm's lengths, ready for 'battle', her mouth twisting in a mischievous smirk. "Uh-uh…you'll just have to agonize over not knowing for sure, I'm afraid."

"Is that so? I grant you one second chance to reconsider this act of folly." His roguish grin was less than comforting, and she added pressure on his chest as a warning, also to brace herself for what's to come.

"I ref-" her response was muffled by his mouth, which felt like heaven after a long stretch of restraints, and ironically enough, trapped without oxygen with the agile dance of their lips, she felt she could finally breathe normally. Animated from reuniting with his warmth, she combed freely through his bare chest with one hand sneaking around the back, and the other smoothing his right shoulder blade where she knew was carved his triangle tattoo. Likewise, he resumed his exploration of her body, his hand fondling her naked breast, his mouth creating a current of hot air through her ear, sending shivers down her spine. Her body reacting off its own accord, her lashes flying shut, her vision drowned in darkness, her head drooping backward, she surrendered to the feel of his fingertips grazing her nipple. That was when she felt it, light flicking on the sole of her foot, which immediately flinched, only encouraging him to intensify his attacks, now on both feet. She wriggled helplessly, flexing both knees, all curled up in his lap, followed by a peal of giggles that involuntarily sprang from her throat, and rapidly progressed to shrieks of laughter.

"S-stop." She spluttered in between giggles. " F-fine, I yield."

His fingers around her ankle, he flashed her a triumphant smile, his eyes full of mirth. "There's my Queen."

Like how the tide rushed back out to the dark waves, her laughter dwindled away, the radiance in her countenance waned. Holding her breath, she watched with wonder how his smile stayed bright, the exuberance in his eyes freshly minted. She could tell he was unaware of his own words that came out of his mouth, robust and resounding.

"Beyond all the good sense in the world, I love you." There was no struggle, no doubt, no hesitance, in how he spoke, letting his feelings flow like a tranquil river to the open sea. "I love you beyond words. Beyond demons. Beyond immortality. Beyond death. I love you beyond Destiny itself."

Time ground to a halt. Her vision quavered from a curtain of tears, distilled to the powerful hybrid in front of her. Everything seemed to dissolve around her, except for the devotion glowing in his cerulean eyes, and the remnant rapture on his vibrant pair of lips. She had pictured this moment more times than she could count, but this transcended the wildest of her imagination. Contrary to what she thought would be sheer elation, majestic and surreal, she felt bittersweet. Happiness, as subtle as the invisible hands massaging her sore heart, as real as the feel of his strong arms around her, trickled slowly into her consciousness, and invaded abidingly into all the cells of her human body.

Her voice was light like feathers, elevated by the warmth blossoming in her chest.

"And I love you. Against sensibilities. Against darkness and fears. Against all evils, I love you."

"I have never been more terrified." He confessed quietly. "I have a collection of worldwide enemies seeking revenge by destroying those who are important to me." He pulled her into a tight hug, resting her cheek on his left chest, allowing her to hear his spirited heart, placing kisses on top of her head. "I can't…I won't let anything happen to you."

"I am right here." She reassured him, feeling content in his arms. "I know you are scared, and so am I. But I choose you. I 'd choose you over and over again, across different universes, supernatural or not." She turned her head to press her lips gently against his chest, before glancing up at him, pleadingly. "Klaus, let me fight alongside you! We will fight whatever we are up against together."

"Camille, sweetheart, troubled as I am, I promised not to deprive you of what you want."

Emphatically, she shook her head. "Forget about what I want for a moment." Giving him a somber look, she inquired, resigned herself to however he wanted to answer. "What do you want, Klaus? Obligation to fulfill a silly promise aside, do you want to be with me?"

"More than anything." He confirmed, his voice like music to her ears. "And I made a promise to you. I aim to honor it." Tucking a wayward golden lock behind her ear, he carried on in an overly jesting manner, but the way he avoided her gaze told her otherwise. "First things first, we need to make it official like youngsters do nowadays."

She looked at him with bated breath. As if feeling the heat coiling underneath her skin, he fastened the buttons of his shirt, enough to conceal her cleavage, his fingers lingering, struggling to obey. It took him such a protracted amount of time that she had half a mind to provide assistance with the simple task, though she was strangely averse against the idea.

Eventually, he made up his mind to keep them buttoned, and trained his eyes on her face, decisively. "Camille O'Connell, will you be my one and only girlfriend?"

...

* * *

Thank you for reading! Once again, please be safe 3


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